


Stars Above

by insertcleveracejoke



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel/Human Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, This fic is out to hurt you a little bit but things will be fine at the end, a somewhat different approach to angels and heaven than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29972685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertcleveracejoke/pseuds/insertcleveracejoke
Summary: Michael is beautiful like the spark of a lightning storm.He towers over Adam's feeble and human body. His eyes shine, two lighthouses- no; two stars, unforgiving, unmarked by any mortal hands, with no interest in humanity. Adam cannot bring himself to look away.
Relationships: Michael/Adam Milligan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Stars Above

Michael is beautiful like the spark of a lightning storm.

He towers over Adam's feeble and human body. His eyes shine, two lighthouses- no; two stars, unforgiving, unmarked by any mortal hands, with no interest in humanity. Adam cannot bring himself to look away. 

He would have described Michael's skin as metallic if he thought metal like it existed anywhere on Earth or in the darkness of space. Its surface was impossibly smooth, free of imperfections, the way no human skin could ever pretend to be. Some part of Adam wants to reach out and touch, to find out if its texture matches the way it looks. It might be lucky that his muscles are locked in place. If he survives this, Adam finds himself distantly thinking, he'll be sore for days. He already feels as if he's been running a marathon.

Michael spreads his hands- the things that looked almost like hands, that might even serve the same function, but that were not and could never be- almost carelessly, hiding his claws from view. 

"Be not afraid," he says with the voice of thunder. Fear roots Adam's feet to the ground. "I don't intend to hurt you."

_ Does the storm?,  _ Adam thinks, almost delirious, but the slight relief at least allows him to move, even if his hands are shaking so hard he can barely manage to shove them into the pockets of his jacket. 

The fear is good news, he knows. The primal screaming at the back of his head, the trembling, the sick, cold feeling in his stomach, the tension in his jaw- Adam allows them to steal his breath and make their home at the front of his mind. They will keep him alive. Hopefully, they will keep him safe.

Doubt strikes at the core of his being now that he's here. Adam doesn't look at it. Letting it take over is what would get him killed.

"Thanks", he blurts out. 

Internally, Adam makes a face at himself.  _ Thanks? _ Really? To the  _ first archangel?  _ The fact that he's still standing at all is a miracle. 

Michael does not seem to notice the stupidity of his answer. Maybe that's just what he expects from a human, lower form of life that he likely believes them to be. Neither option would be surprising.

"Father says the Winchesters sheltered you for a while. It seems you've decided to leave their protection behind."

_ Clearly,  _ Adam thinks, but doesn't voice. He doesn't think sass would be well received. Instead, he lets the sharp agony of grief and the bitter taste of resentment fester in his chest, wraps himself in them like he's putting on a coat before stepping out into the cold. That's why he's here.

"They didn't save my mom," he says, simply. "Will I get to see her? When it's all over?"

Immediately, he grits his teeth- great going, Adam, go asking the oldest created being in the universe questions.  _ That's  _ gonna end well for sure. His hands are almost, almost shaking too much for him to be able to curl them into convincing fists. The sharp bite of fingernails against his palms, at least, is grounding.

It's a miracle, but Michael does not smite him. The archangel ducks his royal head in a semblance of a nod:

"Yes. When the war is over, Father will build heaven on Earth, and all of humanity will be able to live among their loved ones for the rest of eternity."

"Sounds nice."

Michael blinks, two stars fading briefly from view before reappearing in the dawn of his face. "Yes."

"I have info to give. And if I stay here, the Winchesters will come after me. They'll think you kidnapped me." Adam shrugs, a bitter smile tilting up the corners of his mouth almost on its own. "I don't think they think of me as anything but a harmless kid, but I can be bait. You can set a trap. Cut off the snake's head."

His speech comes out in clipped sentences, but he doesn't stutter, his voice doesn't break. It's honestly more than Adam expected. It had been easier to practice what he was going to say when he hadn't yet seen Michael; now that he has, he's just honestly grateful he hasn't choked on his own tongue.

The fact is that it doesn't feel anything like talking to another person. It's like standing at the edge of the Great Canyon in the middle of a sandstorm, knowing you're just a strong wind or a slip away from falling. It's standing in the middle of a lightning storm. Adam feels a sudden sympathy for Dorothy in her torn, spiralling house at the eye of the hurricane, and hopes wherever this tornado sets him down is a place he'll be able to survive in.

The air smells like ozone. Adam's lungs feel too small to contain the essential amount of oxygen in it.

Finally, Michael nods. 

"I think you'll be useful," he says. "Someone will show you a tent. Your needs will be tended to."

Adam does not fall to his knees in relief, but it's a close call.

Instead, he manages to mumble out a  _ thanks _ and mutely follow a stone-faced redhead angel out of Michael's sight. Adam can barely feel himself walking away. Somehow, for some reason, there is a sting of disappointment mixed with the overwhelming relief of being dismissed.

It's only when he can't see or feel the archangel anymore that Adam allows himself to notice that the back of his shirt is soaked in cold sweat, sticking uncomfortably to the skin of his back.

Still. He made it. Now to hoping Michael included a shower in the needs he mentioned. A shower, and then Adam thinks he'll let himself fall apart for a bit. It's taking all he has to not sink down to the ground and put his head between his knees right now. He'll count himself lucky if he doesn't have a panic attack.

But Adam's still breathing, and Michael said he thinks he'll be  _ useful,  _ which probably means he'll be able to keep doing it for a while. He can probably relax. Just a little.

Just a little, Adam promises himself, and then he'll start the work he came here for. 


End file.
